


No One

by secretfeanorian



Series: This is What We Are [1]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: featuring Feanor being protective of Fingolfin, good older brother Feanor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-26
Updated: 2014-04-26
Packaged: 2018-01-20 21:48:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1526906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secretfeanorian/pseuds/secretfeanorian





	No One

The bully started as a strong, forge-hardened hand tightened around his shoulder. He turned around slightly, and then began to tremble when he saw who had snuck up behind him.

On the ground, Nolofinwë shoved aside the pain just in time to see his older, half-brother casually shove one of his tormentors into the stone walls of the alleyway surrounding them.

It didn’t take long for the others to realize who their target’s savior was and they fled, stopping only to retrieve the prone form of their companion.

Fëanáro approached his brother, but stopped when Nolofinwë began to cower against the wall. Snarling, the elf sent a dirty glance over his shoulder in the direction the bullies had fled, accompanied by a few choice curses, then knelt down next to his quivering brother.

"What did they do to you, Nolo?" It wasn’t spoken in the painfully commanding and disgustful tone that Fëanáro seemed to reserve for his stepmother and half-brother, and Nolofinwë dared to look up. What he saw didn’t quite frighten him, but it did confuse him to a certain degree.

The expression of his normally-aloof brother’s face was…puzzling, to say the least. Curufinwë seemed stuck between weeping and chasing after the bullies to teach them a lesson - that no one touched his younger brother. What confused Nolofinwë about this was that Fëanáro had shown nothing but contempt for his half brother and stepmother since the day Nolofinwë had met him, especially Nolofinwë himself for some reason.

Fëanáro seemed to finally come to a decision and he pulled Nolofinwë into an embrace and rocked the smaller elf back and forth.

Nolofinwë sat frozen in shock for more then a few minutes, then - right as Fëanáro stopped his rocking - buried his face into his brother’s chest and began to weep.

Blindly, he heard Curufinwë choke back a sob himself, though he couldn’t imagine why. It couldn’t possibly have been for him, right? Fëanáro hated him. He felt the elder elf gently pick him up and cradle him to his chest, sitting down on the cold stone.

"They will never lay their filthy hands on you ever again, Nolo." He faintly heard his brother promise. "I’m so sorry I couldn’t have stopped them sooner."

Nolo looked up at his older brother, confused as to why the fiery spirit suddenly cared for him. Fëanáro appeared to have seen the confusion in his eyes and on his face, for he bit his lip and pulled Nolofinwë closer to his chest.

Snuggled against his older brother, Nolofinwë could hear the rapid pounding of his heart in his ears. Fëanáro was breathing heavily, like he had just run a marathon.

"How’d you know they were hurting me?" the 17-year-old* asked, the underlying question hanging in the air was left unasked.  _'And why do you suddenly care?'_

Fëanáro shrugged. “I just got the feeling I was needed here.” Nolofinwë got the feeling…that there was more to it then what his brother was saying, but he left it at that; too content curled up in his brother’s warm and encircling arms.

The two brothers remained sitting there for quite a few more then a few minutes until Nolofinwë had almost drifted into sleep. Then, Fëanáro stood, shifting the elfling in his arms to avoid dropping him.

Nolofinwë blinked groggily and stared up at Curufinwë. Fëanáro seemed to sense Nolofinwë’s bleary eyes on him, for he smiled and pressed a kiss onto the younger’s forehead. “Let’s get you home, Nolo.” He whispered.

Nolofinwë wrapped his arms around Fëanáro and buried his face in the crook of his neck. Nolofinwë felt a shiver run through the grown elf’s body, then the warm neck shift as Fëanáro mounted up on a horse that Nolo had only just realized was there. Then he settled the small form of his brother into the saddle and reached around him to grasp the reins and wheel the horse around.

Faintly, Nolofinwë thought that there should be something he should’ve registered for the action, but he felt too sleep and too warm to worry about it. He leaned back and buried his face into his brother’s chest again.

He must’ve drifted off to sleep because the next thing he registered was Fëanáro dismounting, reaching up to pull him from the saddle and replace him once again in his arms.

Nolofinwë raised his head only to note one thing: that they had reached home, then he burrowed back into Fëanáro’s arms and yawned. Through the yawn, he heard Fëanáro whistle a command - probably to his horse - then start walking.

Nolofinwë  _wanted_  to stay awake;  _wanted_  to savor Fëanáro’s suddenly (and unfamiliar, though not unwelcome) caring side, but the Crown Prince’s arms were too comfortable - too warm - and he found himself drifting off to sleep again.

* * *

By the time Fëanáro reached Nolofinwë’s room, the by-far-younger-brother was sound asleep and Fëanáro just stood there for a moment, not wanting to wake him. Finally, he gently placed Nolofinwë on the bed, pulling the thin blankets out from under him and covering him.

He turned to leave the room, but glanced back when Nolofinwë made an unhappy noise. He saw Nolofinwë’s eyes on him and he made his way back to the bed, sitting down and gazing at the younger curiously.

"Stay with me?" The plea was quiet and even as he said it, Nolofinwë’s eyes were sliding closed again. But Fëanáro heard and he smiled ever so slightly; beginning to stroke his younger brother’s hair. "Sleep." He whispered and Nolofinwë complied, curling up by Fëanáro.

The spirit of fire’s smile grew as he watched Nolofinwë’s breathing even out. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that he needed to be back at the forge - that he should’ve been back awhile ago; but all the sudden, he was hard-pressed to care.

He lay down next to Nolofinwë and pulled the sleeping elfling close to his chest. He meant to stay awake, cuddling only for Nolofinwë’s comfort, but the bed was comfortable and he was tired and soon found himself drifting to sleep.

* * *

Nolofinwë was nowhere to be found. He was - apparently - five hours late; having never shown up for his lessons at all.

Finwë paced back and forth. Where could his younger son be? No one had seen him since he headed out for his lessons. The elfling always went and so Finwë had figured he didn’t need an escort. Apparently, the 17-year-old did.

Being struck by an abrupt idea, he sprinted up the staircase toward Nolofinwë’s room. If that…had been hiding in his room all this time…

Finwë’s mad train of thought was cut to a halt when he entered Nolofinwë’s chamber and saw a head of dark hair in the bed. He burst into the room, prepared to give Nolofinwë the lecture of his life, then froze.

The hair he had seen from the entrance wasn’t Nolofinwë’s. It was Curufinwë’s. His older son was lying in the bed, limbs askew, curled around his ‘hated’ brother (he wasn’t cuddling…was he?), and sound asleep.

Finwë stared in shock for five or so minutes until Curufinwë shifted in his sleep and tightened his grip around Nolofinwë almost…protectively, possessively. Fëanáro stirred and opened one eye to stare at their father unnervingly.

Finwë was barely able to push out a smile when he saw his son’s eyes on him, chest almost bursting with giddiness.

Fëanáro saw the giddy expression on his face and instead of rolling back away from his half brother, he wrapped his arms tighter around Nolofinwë, challenging their father to say something; anything at all.

Finwë just smiled and backed out of the room, deciding that Nolofinwë could be excused from his lessons for one day if Fëanáro wanted to cuddle him.

When Finwë was gone, Fëanáro closed his eyes as Nolofinwë stirred. “Adar?” The elfling muttered groggily, still half in the land of dreams, eye slit shut. Then they shot open and Nolofinwë struggled to sit up. “M’lessons.” He murmured, but Fëanáro held on tighter, eyes still closed.

"No one will kill you for missing one day because there were brats beating you up. And-" Only now did he open his eyes and Nolofinwë looked at him, they were shining. "-if they do, I’ll protect you."

Nolofinwë couldn’t begin to describe how much that simple sentence touched him. There was fierce protectiveness unveiled in Fëanáro’s eyes and even though it had been said jokingly - neither actually believed that Nolofinwë’s tutors would kill him for missing one day of lessons - there was a terribly protective undercut in his words. Nolofinwë snuggled against his older brother, strangely reassured by Curufinwë’s joke.

* * *

 When he awoke, Fëanáro was gone, but the blankets had been securely tucked around him where they hadn’t been before and as he sat up, a soft red fabric slid off from around him. Fëanáro’s cloak.


End file.
